Agoraphobia
by GeminiLady21
Summary: Have 5 Guardians, their sworn enemy, topping it off with an unbelieving girl all trapped inside the depths of Pitch's lair, with no way for them to escape. What do you get? Chaos. It seems like the only way for our magical beings to escape is to make the unbelieving girl, believe in them once more. But how can they accomplish this, without driving each other completely insane?
1. Tropophobia

**Full Summary: Have 5 Guardians, their sworn enemy, and an unbelieving girl, all trapped inside the depths of Pitch's lair, with seemingly no way for them to escape. What do you get? Chaos.**

**It seems that Man on the Moon, trapped the immortal spirits within the realm of the Nightmare King's lair, in order for them to "cope" and "bond" with each other. There is only one way for the Guardians and Pitch to escape…and that is for them to work together to make the unbelieving girl ****_believe_** **in all of them once more.**

**But how can they accomplish that? They all hate each other's guts, are sworn enemies, and this girl seems to have no wonder, hope, or joy in her at all that would be able to make her believe in them. Looks like things will get crazy for them, if they somehow don't find a way out and somehow not murder each other, being stuck together underground and all…**

* * *

**~Chapter One~**

North was at his wit's end.

Everything was turning to chaos at his workshop. He would be fine with all the trouble - that is if all of this ruckus and nonsense was not happening _two weeks time_ before Christmas.

The elves and Yetis seemed to be on edge lately, North noticed. Much more paranoid, flighty, and jumpy. Sure, he would expect the Elves to be easily unnerved by something amiss, but the Yetis - now there was something wrong here. If North so much yelled at the yetis to hurry up they would jump out of their skins, scared out of their minds. As for the elves, acting beyond their idiotic quirks, they were instead hoarding ribbons, cookies, small trinkets - and stuff them away somewhere in the workshop, huddled away in groups. Worst of all, the Yetis no longer have the spirit to create toys. Minds overtaken by an underlying nervousness, their handiwork displays their shaky hand. Elves only mutter to each other in their own unintelligible elvish language.

All of this strange activity was making North nervous himself. Even from his fellow Guardians, the Tooth Fairy and Bunny, say that there is something wrong with their magical workers around their jobs. North pondered why all of these events are transpiring. But nevermind that - his workers need to pull it together, for the sake of Christmas!

"Barlax, put your back into it!" He hollers at a Yeti making toy airplanes. The Yeti yelps, crazily trying to nail in the wings to an unfinished airplane. This only succeeds in denting said airplane. North flashing a glare of disbelief, the Yeti fumbles for a new set for the wrecked toy.

"Gnarly, I expect for you to paint those dolls' dresses YELLOW!" Norths screeches at a Yeti hunched over painting Raggedy-Ann dolls. The Yeti, Gnarly, whimpers, shakingly reaching for a jar of yellow paint.

"Jojo, have you monitored the Naughty and Nice lately?! Morky, why aren't you at the toy vehicle station helping out Tortor?! AND WHERE ARE MY COOKIES?!" North shouts the last part, tugging at his beard. He sighs heavily, witnessing panic steadily rising in the already tense atmosphere within his Workshop. He didn't understand! Christmas was just around the corner, the time where all of his workers were at their highest spirits! What in the world was wrong with them?

"AAAAARRRGHHHHHHHHHHHH!" Screams of Yetis suddenly ring out through the toy workshop stations.

North's head snaps up. "What? What is that?" He grabs a dagger from the wall, sure to always keep close in times of danger. He runs to the main room where the Workshop's Golden Glove is and dagger ready in hand, he slams open the doors. Instantly what he sees before his very eyes almost caused his weapon to fall out of his hands.

Whirls of black dust - the all too familiar _Nightmare Sand_ \- swirls around the golden globe in the center of the huge room. Yetis run around in panic from attacking Night Mares. A violent current of Yetis crashing past North, this leaves only him and the darkness in the Glove Center. "What in the world…?!" Wasting no time to gape anymore, he bounces into action, running towards the globe. Charging at a Night Mare, his blade slices smoothly through their slick body. From the one-hit kill, the Night Mare dissipates into no more than mere sand. Left and right, he slices them one by one. In his mind, the Guardian is starstruck to see the essence of the Night Mares seeping into the cracks of the globe.

They don't seem to be paying attention to North - afterall, he is by himself at this point, most of the Yetis evacuated from the room. The Russian glances around wildly. If the Night Mares are here, that can only mean one thing - _Pitch Black._ "Where are you?!" North booms out, waving his sword about. "You whap-looshing scum bag, show yourself!"

"**_BUT HE IS NOT HERE, NICHALOS NORTH,"_** A chorus of a hundred whispery, hissery, snake like voices all speak at once.

North gasps, stumbling backwards, his guard still up.

The voices laugh. "**_SURPRISE, SURPRISE. YOU WEREN'T EXPECTING TO SEE US NORTH, WERE YOU? OF COURSE NOT. HEHE. HOW LONG HAS IT BEEN SINCE WE'VE LAST MET - SEVEN MONTHS, EH?"_**

"H-how are you out? You sealed yourselves away with Pitch, in lair!" North exclaims. "Most of all...how can you talk?!"

The Night Mares laugh all together, in horrible harmony, their laughter like grating metal against North's ears. "**_HOW WE HAVE EVOLVED NORTH, HOW WE HAVE EVOLVED. THROUGH THESE SEVEN MONTHS, WE HAVE BEEN - ENLIGHTENED, SO TO SAY. DEVELOPED. EVOLVED. WE NOW SERVE A NEW MASTER."_**

"And who is this new master of yours?" North asks with narrow eyes.

"**_NOT TELLING, NOT TELLING, NO FUN AT ALL!" _**They all giggle.

_Crack!_ North hears from the globe. He backs away. "What do you want with the globe?!"

"**_SOMETHING SPECIAL NORTH."_** The globe, with another loud crack, breaks apart from the force of the Night Mares. It breaks in half, both halves crashing on either side of whatever is surrounding them, destroying half of the room. "**_FOUND IT! FOUNDITFOUNDITFOUNDIT!"_** They cackle hysterically. North could not help but stare at the swirling mass of Night Mares. They were already a threat from before...but now, they have reached a whole new dark level that North fears that these _things_ are capable of.

Squinting, North sees a faint blue glow in the center of the huge mass of Night Mares. "No! You weren't even supposed to know - !"

"**_IN TIME, IN TIME...YOU'LL FIND OUT...WE ARE PLANNING SOMETHING. SOMETHING BIG. STOP US NORTH, STOP US WITH YOU AND THE GUARDIANS! IT WON'T BE ANY TROUBLE FOR ALL OF YOU, RIGHT? AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"_** They all continue to laugh at what can be defined as madness, and they crash out of the circular window in the ceiling. Rubble falls to the ground, North jumping to the side to avoid the falling debris.

Smoke clouds the air, North temporarily blinded of sight. He coughs, waving the dust from his face, stumbling to his feet. Grimacing at the damage of the Globe Center, he closes his eyes, rubbing his sweaty forehead. He then looks up to the full moon, almost covered by dark, stormy looking clouds. Muttering a quick prayer to himself in Russian, North whispers lastly in English, "Manny, help us all."

Whatever the Night Mares are planning is far worse - far worse than the fact that Christmas might not happen for this year. And North knows what must be done.

* * *

_Agoraphobia-_ _abnormal fear of being helpless in an embarrassing or unescapable situation that is characterized especially by the avoidance of open or public places._ A young girl reads with a bored expression from a huge blue textbook practically taking up all of her lap. A sigh escapes her, as she closes the heavy book and shoves it to the side, looks out the window. The scenery of trees, a.k.a, no civilization in sight, melts and blurs all together into an unintelligible blob, as the car that the girl resides in rushes past by.

_How about the phobia of moving to a new place? That'd be helpful to know the name of._ She thinks, biting her tongue. Once adjusting her dark blue headband to hide behind her ears, she neatly tucks away her fiery red hair. "Do we seriously truly need to move to a new place?" The girl moans, falling melodramatically on the window. She tightens the seatbelt around her. She always does. To make sure. Extra sure.

"Yes, yes indeed." Her father answers.

"Why?"

"For the sake of...a change of scenery."

"Why?"

"Because it'd be best for all of us."

"Why?"

"Because it'd be nice to move out of the huge cramped city."

"Why?"

"To get away from air and noise pollution."

Amara sits up again, frowning at her father. He always seemed to have a answer for _everything_. Then again, most of his answers weren't very much satisfying. "I didn't want to move, you know." She says out loud, looking out the window once again. She hears her mother heave a soft sigh the front, but the young girl ignores this. "Cuz I happened to _like_ New York. Even if it was full of air pollution and garbage."

"We know." Her father answers, sounding weary. "We know Amara, we know. But it this is what needed to be done. For all of us."

Amara bangs a fists against the window. "Yeah. That's your excuse for everything." Silence takes up the car between all three of them. Accustomed to such tension, an old, worn faint blue sign that reads, **_Welcome to Bugress, Pennsylvania! Hope you stay long folks!_** comes into view outside of the car window. Amara rolls her eyes. How phony. Phony, phony, phony. She draws her knees to her chest, letting the car rock her back and forth. _I hate change. Can you believe this, May? We're moving out to the middle of nowhere in dumb bunny Pennsylvania. _Her scowl only deepens when seeing a ridiculous cartoon balloon version of Santa flopping back and forth in front of a supermarket.

"Stupid." She mutters to the Santa figure, as they drive past. Figuring that there are more stupid Christmas decorations to come, Amara puts her hood over her eyes to block out the world.

* * *

**A/N: YES! I finally got to the rewrite! Yeah, things are darker in this version, ain't it? Well, I feel so glad I finally got re-writing this. Leave your thoughts in the reviews, and I will see you in the next chapter!**


	2. Tonsurephobia

**A/N: Here I am, back and about. Sorry for the late update... Here's chapter for you!**

_2lazybruh- Loving it so far! I loved the original version also!_

**Thank you for supporting both the original and the re-write! _**

_abzrocks1234- Wow, this is interesting! You took the boring plot of 'new girl moving to a new place but doesn't want to' to a new level! A better level! I'm interested to see where this goes, with the Nightmares as well as with Amara. I'm excited to see what happens! Please continue!_

**Thanks so very much! I take it that you're a reader of the new and improved version - I'm pretty curious to see a new comer of my work reading rewritten versions of my writing!**

_NightFury999- Brilliant. Can't wait for your update :)_

**Thanks very much!**

* * *

**~Chapter Two~**

The Guardian of Wonder shuffles to the emergency alert for the Guardians. This is a definite emergency, no questions asked.

He gazes up at the huge, wrecked whole in the ceiling of his ruined workshop, admiring the beautiful lights of Aurora Borealis. The cold, harsh winds of the North Pole fly into his shop, carrying the sandy white snow along with it. Through the harsh winds, North can see the faint glow of the everlasting presence of the Moon. North stares at it, carefully.

"...I trust you, old friend," He mutters quietly, clenching his swords in both of his hands. "But what madness it turning up that my friends and I have to face, this time?"

* * *

Amara and her family arrived into the town of Burgress. For the whole ride, Amara kept her hoodie over her eyes, her knees close to her chest. She swears, if she takes so much more than a _peek_ out of the window, all she sees is the barfed up festivities of Christmade decorations, _plastered freaking everywhere. _Amara adjusts her headband, biting the inside of her cheek.

_Gee oh boy May, wouldja look at these sites? Stupid decorations everywhere. I hope that our neighbors won't be holiday crazy. I don't think I can handle too much amounts of stupid._Amara thought sourly to herself, briefly glancing out the window. She gagged, seeing a long line of people waiting for an obviously fake Santa. _Dumb bunnies. _She thought, coldly looking away.

The red head can feel the quiet, watching eyes of her mother, on her. "How do you like the town so far, Amara?" She hears the quiet voice of her mother questioning her.

Amara keeps her head down. "Bleh."

"Not such a fancy adjective, is it now, Amara?" She hears the playing voice of her father.

"Meh." She turns over, strands of her bright red hair falling over her eyes. "A bunch of meh."

A pause comes from both of her parents.

"You know, Amara," Her mom says. "Our neighbor is an old friend of ours. She has a kid - just your age, maybe a couple of months younger than you. You know, once, you met him here at Burgress when you were just a little six year old with May…" She trails off, her voice sounding nostalgic at the memories, however, Amara couldn't miss that crack in her voice at the end of her sentence...

Amara sniffs. "That was when I was _eight._" She insists.

"Well...just try to play with Jamie and his friends. It's for the best."

Amara scowls, but says nothing back to her mother. _For the best. Isn't that what grown-ups always say? For the best._ The little girl thought with obvious discuss.

"Well, we're here." Amara feels the car stop. She looks at the window, to see a neat and snow covered house, lined up with other neat and identical suburban houses. At the other house, its lively with a bunch of kids in the backyard, hooting and yelling excitedly about. A snowball fight. Amara scoffs at this joyful activity.

_Dumb bunny neighbor kids. Snow will only give you colds._

Watching carefully, she notices that snowballs seem to fly out of nowhere at the kids, wind and gusts carrying snow blows around the kids, and the kids seem to be looking at someone in the air. And the fact that they keep on hollering, 'Jack, give us more snowballs!' or 'Hey Jack, help me out here!' Or things like that. Amara rolls her eyes, as she gets out the car with the huge, lumpy duffel bag taking up both of her arms. _They look like a bunch of crazy people. I can't believe that mom would want me to play with _those_ weirdos._

Stumbling out with the heavy luggage, Amara shuffles towards the new house. Just as she is walking, a huge gust of wind blows through her. Not like those winds that push hats off your head - the practically-knock-you-off-your-feet, type of wind. As if something or someone, shoved Amara over. The duffel bag is knocked out of her hands, Amara nearly stumbling on the ground.

"Mother…!" She hisses through her teeth.

Huffily flinging the duffel over her shoulder, Amara rubs her numb hands. Some wind that was! Ahead of her is a boy, maybe her age, who came crawling out of a loose board of his boarded fence. Laughing, he waves at the sky - Amara squints upward to see whatever the boy is waving at - but there are nothing but a few birds soaring above. Frowning, she looks back to the boy.

"See ya later, Jack!" He hollers.

Behind the fence, a chorus of more voices sing, "Yeah bye Jack!"

"So long!"

"Come back soon and play with us Jack!"

There it is! The mention of _Jack!_ Who the heck is Jack?! Shaking her head, Amara fixes her headband. _What are they, a bunch of schizos?_

"Better head inside kiddo," Her dad calls out to her, carrying two heavy looking boxes towards their new home. Her mom follows, clutching her purse.

Amara's mom's tired face, breaks out into a small smile of relief, as she walks towards the house where the boy and his friends are playing. "I'm going to visit Sarah!" She calls out to Amara's dad. He nods, heaving the boxes into the house. "Amara," Her mom whispers to her. Nudging her head to the boy, who is looking at both of them in curiosity, she mutters, "Say hello to Jamie, would you?" With that, her mom heads inside the gate, saying a hello to Jamie on the way.

The girl sighs harshly, looking ruefully over to Jamie. A scrawny looking boy, with huge floppy ears sticking out either side of his head, through the tufts of messy looking brunette hair. Boy oh boy, was his face _full_ of freckles, splattered across his round, slightly chubby cheeks. Realizing that Amara is looking at her, Jamie breaks out into a huge, lopsided friendly smile. A gap is present in his huge smile. His hazel brown eyes seem to light up, momentarily having flecks of green flash in his wide eyes, thanks to the sunlight.

"Hey!" He yells, waving his arm in a flopping motion.

Impulsively, Amara feels her face form into a scowl. Immediately, regret registers in her, when Jamie's friendly smile turns into nervousness.

"Uhm...uh, I'll just be going now! Bye!" Jamie dives back through the gate.

Amara stomps her feet, punching her bag. Why does she always do that! Besides, does she always look _that_ scary when she looks angry? Somehow, Amara has that effect on others - she can simply scare them off with her glares. But it doesn't help that she glares all the time. Unhappily tugging at her flaring red hair, she spins on her heel, making her way towards her new house. Behind the fence, she can hear the loud chattering of Jamie and his friends. They were _not_ good at keeping quiet, that's one thing for sure.

"...Ooh, a new neighbor, think we should invite her over?" She hears a girl's voice say ecstatically.

"I dunno, she seems kinda scary, I don't think she likes me…" The whimpering of Jamie's voice heard above the excited chatter of his friends.

Amara stops in her tracks, glaring at the fence.

"Pfft, aw please James-o!"

On cue, four heads peek over the fence, a couple covered in warm looking hats or snow. At once, Amara returns their staring with another one of her Death Glares.

"Eeh!" They all squeal, ducking back behind the fence.

"Woah, did you see how red her hair is?"

"So scary…!"

Ignoring them, Amara bangs the door open into her house, and quickly shuts it - as loud as possible so that the others can hear.

* * *

"Wind, take me to North's place!" Jack hollers over the howling sounds of the wind swirling around him. Almost immediately, a huge gust propels the spirit forward, at full speed. Coldness bites at Jack's exposed face and toes - but he gives out a whoop, doing a cartwheel in the thick air. Light snow blows past Jack's face, the extreme cold ai hardly bothering the young Guardian.

Feeling a wide smile on his face as he head's to North's Workshop, he ponders why would North possibly call the Guardians at this time of the month - in December, _especially_ nearly two weeks before Christmas! It was pretty unheard of - which means it must be pretty serious. As the Guardian of Fun soars through the air, flying past the glowing colors of Aurelia Borealis, the Guardian's call, he muses to himself how long he has been a Guardian - over a year, probably?

Now at first, Jack sort of knew the price of being a Guardian - a full time job, for who knows how long? But boy, he had _no idea_ it would be so much work at the end of the day! Back and forth, Jack had to fly all over the world, bringing Fun, frost, snow, and spreading Belief as much as he can. It sounds fan-freaking easy in anyone's head when they think of a magical being that has cryotenic powers and the ability to fly to do a seemingly simple job, but magic doesn't come from anywhere!

Though Jack has to admit, this is only the first year of his job, so he should get used to it pretty quickly - afterall, Bunny, with that annoying, smirking face of his, taunted Jack with the fact that he only got used to it in a matter of a decade - but now, the winter sprite is getting the hang of it. His believers are small in America, mostly his existence is big in Pennsylvania - and he's weirdly huge in Japan for some odd reason...

"_Pfft, that's only the beginning Frostbite,"_ He hears the Australian ridden accent of Bunnymund echo in his head, snickering.

Jack frowns, but breaks out into laughter. How long has it been since he has seen the other Guardians, anyway? Well, with the exception of Sandy, who Jack practically almost runs into. A few months - everyone has been pretty busy lately, all in all. Probably by Febraury, things will settle and the Guardians might be able to get together.

Finally, when the air drops even _colder_ and thicker, the winds growing more wild, and Jack's perception of vision finally struggling to see through the blankets of blowing snow, Jack Frost knows that he is in the North Pole now. Grinning, he mentally wills for the wind to push it forward. In synch, a freezing blast of wind explodes behind him, practically throwing him forward at full speed.

Laughter escapes Jack, when he sees the bright, warm, and welcoming building of North's Workshop - that is when he saw the once beautiful, smooth dome building that was part of the workshop - crumbled and smashed.

* * *

Amara scowls at her reflection. Particularly at her conspicuous red hair.

Strands, long and short, scatter across the white bathroom sink and the tiled floors. "Ooh, itchy!" Amara mumbles to herself, scratching the back of her head. The dry, parted hair seem to cling all over her - she can fix it by washing it off.

Amara stares at herself. Then she sticks her tongue out. "Stupid red color."

Even when chopping off her annoyingly long hair - the redness still stands out even when short! Amara made sure to cut it as short as possible - her hair is now only up to her ears. At the ends it looks incredibly uneven - Amara isn't quite sure how the back of her head looks, no matter how much she tries to rotate her position to see herself in the mirror. Her right and left side of her hair looks incredibly uneven - choppy split ends, one side longer than the other.

Brushing more strands of hair off her left shoulder, Amara shrugs it off. Looks like she has to resort to her second option.

She stares over to the hair dye. _'REVLON! Color Silk: All beautiful color - no gray!' _Amara frowns at the pretty woman with her shiny, long, gorgeous, _divine_ as Amara once heard a grown-up use, golden blonde hair. Her blue eyes seem to gaze up at Amara, with a shiny, pearly white model smile. _I want to have blonde hair like her. _An image of May's long blonde hair flashes in Amara's head.

The young girl touches her own red locks. Then rips open the box.

_I wonder if the dye is strong enough to cover up the redness of my hair?_ Amara thought, squinting close at the directions.

"Amara! What are you doing in there?"

She jumps, the dye tumbling out of her hands.

The bathroom door swings open, revealing her mom.

Her mom takes one look at Amara's chopped off hair. "Amara!"

"Crap." Amara says, lips pursed, her ears turning a shade of red.

* * *

**A/N: Watcha think! Leave your thoughts in the comments!**


	3. Atychiphobia

**A/N: It has been SUCH a long time since I updated, I won't be surprised if no one reviews this anymore...I mean, I hope you guys are still reading this. ;_;**

* * *

**~Chapter Three~**

Eating dinner is just plain _painful._

Fidgeting, Amara disheartedly spins her fork in her dinner. She didn't bother to take one bite - it wasn't the same like in her old home. Everytime she glances up, she is only reminded of someone's absence. Slowly, her eyes slide over to the space between her and Mom's. No matter where _she_ sat, she is always somehow sitting next to Amara. But now...the table from this point forward, is only meant for three.

"So, Amara," Her father says, finally doing something about the strained silence. It isn't much better to the situation, since Amara knew that dinner was building up to this very moment, the moment she's been dreading. "You...decided to get a new haircut…?"

Bloody juice seeps out of the undercooked meatball when the fork drives itself into the meat. _The Italian food in Burgress is terrible. Not like home's. _Amara scowls, finishing off the meatball by slicing it in half with her folk. The inside presents something she would imagine seeing the inside of the brain - pink, mushy, and fleshy. "Yeah." Unconsciously, she reaches to twirl her hair - but her finger only meets emptiness. Swaying her head slightly, Amara is reminded how much lighter her hair is now that it's cut short to her ears. "What's your point?"

Although she isn't looking at either of her parents, Amara _knows_ that they are giving each other the "parent signals." _/Parent signals: (n) A not-so-subtle message that parents give to each other when the child is clearly in child, but they're just dragging things out./_ She rolls her eyes, proceeding to mash up the meatball into an unintelligible pulp.

"Well…"

A pause.

"Does this have something to do with May?"

"Mmhm." Amara shrugs. Her eye contact doesn't break from the act of mutilating her food.

"You haven't eaten a bite of dinner, you know that?"

"Mmhm."

"And you aren't able to sleep that much lately…"

"Hey, was it painful for May when she died?"

A pause.

Finally, Amara looks up to see her parents. This time, both of them are looking away. Amara's father is staring down at his half eaten plate of baked-ziti. His expression looks stiff, something that reminds Amara of the Tin Man - her favorite character - from the Wizard of Oz. Stiff, emotionless, and unmoving. The only part of his body that gives any signs of moving is his shoulders - slowly the rise up and down, as if her father is breathing heavily.

As for her mother, she's just looking away. Amara leans in, frowning slightly. She didn't like how she couldn't see her mother's face at all. Seeing her mother so still, so small, so silent, sent discomfort down Amara's back. Shivering, Amara pushes her plate away. _I wish I didn't say anything. _"Mom? Dad?"

Her mother is the first to come back from 'Somewhere' as Amara would dub it, as she slowly turns back to Amara. Even when tired and always sad looking, Amara secretly thought her mother still looks beautiful - dark brown skin with hazel grey eyes standing out, along with frizzy, massively curly shiny black hair, Amara feels sometimes she and her mother are _really_ blood related or something - a concept she couldn't grasp yet - thanks to both of them sharing grey eyes.

"We're alright Amara."

In answer, Amara nods to show she accepts this. _But if they really meant that, why do they still look so sad?_

"We just…" Her mother looks over to dad. He is still Somewhere, staring off into it. Slightly, mom's shoulders deflate. "...need to go to bed. Okay Sunshine?"

"Mom, I don't want to be called that anymore." Amara pouts at the use of her infamous nickname. It's a particularly silly name that stuck with Amara ever since the whole family watched _Annie_ \- not the movie version, but the musical version where people are actually singing and dancing right before your eyes. Amara thought it was coolest concept ever - with her finally seeing her first character with red hair. The next year, Amara was on an _Annie_ frenzy, singing _Tomorrow_ at the top of her lungs. Let's just say Amara wasn't destined for the stage.

Her mom laughs, though it isn't her normal laugh - not the hearty, rich-trying-to-keep-quiet type of laugh - but simply a sound produced out of her mom under the guise of a smile. "Alright, Amara."

"Are you going to tuck me in?"

"If we have the time."

Amara scowls. "You're gonna have another one of those 'Talks' aren't you?"

"You know the drill."

Disappointment sags heavy within Amara's chest. For the past couple of weeks, this is what everyday has been building up to. Nighttime. Nighttime equals bed. Bed equals sleep. Sleep equals…

Putting on her best 'I'm a grown-up face' Amara marches upstairs, making a point of loudly pounding her foot on each rickety step.

* * *

The moment Jack knew there was something wrong, he zooms into the debris of the Workshop's roof. His eyes scour the countess debris on ground level. The Workshop's Globe is now only half of what used to be it's Golden magnificence, twinkling with the numbers of children that _Believed._ Not it is shattered, as if someone punched a hole into it. Yetis, the great and burly creatures Jack came to know and love, are huddled into the corners, muttering to each other in their gibberish of a language. In the center of it all, is North, who is staring off into the Globe, a strangely distant look furled into his bushy eyebrows.

"North!" Jack says, glad to see his leader unharmed. The freezing cold wind howls, as it slowly lowers Jack to the ground. Landing feet first gracefully and light as a feather, Jack rushes to North's side. "What...happened?" The Guardian of Fun addresses the current chaos taking place in the once merry and welcoming Workshop. "Who did this to you?"

Coming back from thought, North looks down at Jack. Light, icy blue eyes stare at Jack - although it's not the type of icy blue that one would see in unforgiving, jagged ice. It is the type of icy blue one would see when you look out of the window to see the world covered in a blanket of snow, the icy blue one would see in that one scarf your family member knitted for you, the type of blue you would see in a frozen lake that lures you with the promise of gliding across its mirror surface. North's eyes truly define what is supposed to be winter and Christmas.

Despite the dire of the situation, North's unusually aged and worn looking face, melts into it's jolly expression Jack was so used to him wearing. His smile crinkles crept back to his eyes, his cheeks puffing up into a rosy red, and his belly jiggles with a low, rumbling chuckle. "Jack Frost! It's been awhile!" North heartily laughs, scruffing up Jack's hair.

Jack allows a smile, but he cannot ignore what's around him.

Just when Jack is about to repeat his question, he sees a Daisy sprout out of the golden tiled floor - quickly followed with the flower engulfed by a huge rabbit-sized hole. Popping out of it is the very familiar bunny ears of the Easter Bunny, along with the wisps of comforting golden sand, and the presence of many tiny hummingbird-like creatures buzzing about the opening.

"Crikey!" Bunnymund's voice says, muffled. "It's s-so c-c-cold!"

North smiles widely, hearing the the newcomers' presence. "You all came just in time."

* * *

Sandy wishes from the bottom of his heart that the Guardians were all called to North's Workshop for something matching a hearty reunion - but the situation is anything but that. Listening closely to North delivering the strange and terrifying event of the Fearlings paying North a visit, Sandy wondered to himself if North and the Guardians were aware of the steady trickle of Fear running wild in the world. His friends certainly had a funny concept of Fear - they all seem to think that it is personified by a mere figure, Pitch Black, that it can be defeated so easily. If Fear could ever be defeated, anyways…

Only a year since Pitch's defeat, yet Sandy witnessed the havoc of the Nightmares. It was a slow, tedious plan that the Nightmares were carrying out - Sandy at first didn't notice it. Here and there, he dealt with the occasional Nightmare haunting a child. But then they multiplied. The most odd thing was, the Nightmares were no longer limited to preying on the sleep of children. The direction they took was much more cunning.

So subtle, they latch onto a mere human, perched next to their ear, invisible to the eyes of anyone over twelve. Even when a child could see them, the Adults would only dismiss it as silly imagination, the occasional imaginary friend, a mindless daydream. Sandy dismissed their presence as nothing more than natural Fear. But then the Nightmares' actions turn more sly and sinister, as they took the action to sit on the human child's shoulder, feeding an endless poison of Fear into their minds. This causes Insecurity, Lack of Faith, Doubt, and many other unwanted side effects that are amplified thanks to the influence of the Nightmares.

He would suspect Pitch at this point - but the memory of his foil being dragged into an endless abyss of his lair by his own supposed companions - haunts Sandy. What they did to him, he didn't know. Unknown to the Guardians, Sandy at some point visited one of the portals to Pitch's lair. He peered into the alluring darkness - no signs of Pitch. Besides, Sandy has some Belief in Pitch. The Boogeyman wouldn't go so far to take this approach - afterall, like any other Spirit, he was only interested in Belief, despite having a different approach that is arguable.

Worst of all, Sandy has no idea how to stop it. At some point during the year, he was going to report the news of the Nightmares slow grip of Fear that they were spreading in the world - yet Manny personally told Sandy _not_ to.

Through the shattered round dome of the Workshop, the full moon is visible, a silent yet omniscent presence watching over them. Sandy gazes at the Moon, frowning slightly. _Why? Why did you wait up until now?_ The Moon continues to glow its soft silvery glow.

"...It must be Pitch! It _has _to be Pitch!" Jack's resentful tone rises up.

"Who else could it be?" Tooth says, a pondering look on her face. "But the thing I don't get is that we defeated him...how could he out and about more powerful and aggressive than before? I mean, who knows what the Nightmares are doing to him in his lair…" Pity morphs into Tooth's feature, along with the Guardians. No matter how much of a villain the Bringer of Fears was, the Guardians silently agreed on one thing - _nobody_ deserves such a fate. "...So how can he be back on his feet so quickly?"

"You have a point Toothiana - but we must not cross out the possibility that this is Pitch's doing once again.

"If it is Pitch Black we have to deal with again, you woulda expect for somebody to learn their lesson." Bunny says, looking brooding and towering as ever. However, his threatening figure bends over from the cold winds of Anartica pouring freely into the ruined Workshop. "C-c-rikey!" He chatters through his teeth, crouching down in an attempt to keep warmth. Sandy sympathetically nods at Bunny, and conjures up a glowing blanket, made of Dream Sand itself. It floats on Bunny's shoulders, shimmering.

Thankfully, Bunny smiles at Sandy. "Thanks mate. That was much needed."

"Here's another thing I don't get - what's with the Nightmares hijacking the Globe?" Jack raises his eyebrows, glancing around the Guardians for an answer. Sandy bites his bottom lip, and glances around to his fellow companions wanting to see their reactions. Bunny makes a, "Oops-we-forgot-to-mention-that' face, Tooth bites her bottom lip looking side to side, and North's busy eyebrows raise in surprise.

The older Guardians nodding to each other silently, they turn back to Jack.

"Jack, do you know why we are Guardians?"

"Uhm…" Jack makes a confused gesture, clearly confused why such a question would turn up. "To protect kids, right?"

"Yes, to preserve Childhood. This is the most vital time in a human's life. However, children are not the only things we need to protect." North paces back and forth. Briefly, he pauses taking a look at the ruined Golden Globe, sad admiration on his wrinkled face. "We, as the Guardians, must protect Humanity itself. What makes us, well, us?"

An awkward silent arises, when North pauses, giving an expectant look to Jack.

"Oh! You want me to answer? I guess I have to go with the flow of this philosophical subject…" Jack mutters, scratching the back of his neck. Sandy gives him a reassuring thumbs-up. He wonders if his friends remember the fact that Jack is equivalent to an immortal teenager - such subjects such as this doesn't pop up in a lot in a Guardian that is supposed to represent 'Fun.' "Wellll, what makes humanity what it is, I guess, is the fact that we have...morales?" From the tone of his voice, Jack doesn't sound quite sure.

"Hoho, you tried." North smiles, nodding. "We have the Qualities of Wonder," He points at himself. "Hope," He nods to Bunny. "Memories." He smiles at Tooth. "Dreams," He sighs looking at Sandy. "And Fun." He puts a huge, meaty hand on Jack's left shoulder. "These Qualities are what make up Humankind - what makes us what we are. They were given to humans a long, long time ago from the time of the Golden Age as Gifts. Gifts that man must use well."

"We protect these Gifts," Tooth chimes in, nodding vigurously. "We help spread them from the time of Childhood - humans can be left up to figure things entirely on their own, but we, the Guardians, serve as a crutch, a walking stick if you can call us, to help humans through their journey through Time."

"These 'Gifts' were stored into the very Globes themselves stalled into our homes." Bunny says, nodding his head at North's ruined Globe. "They contain the objects that we represent."

Contributing, Sandy conjures up images above his head. A magnifying glass for Wonder, a scrapbook for Memories, a tree branch for Hope, a mist for Dreams, and a question mark for Fun. Jack's eyes scour over the images floating above Sandy's head, slowly starting to comprehend the situation. "So...the Nightmares...are stealing the things inside your Globes? Why are they doing this now?"

"That's what's freaking us out," Bunny says. "They _shouldn't_ know this. Afterall, they're only mindless drones serving Pitch…"

"If that's the case, let's ask the Big Man." Jack suggests, pointing his staff straight at the sky. The Moon is peering in, silent and watchful as ever. Sandy only stares at the Moon, not sure if he could agree with Jack. This is strange. Why is he doubting a long time friend? One who has existed before Sandy was born? Sandy nods slowly to show his agreement. Doubt still tugs at his heart, a puzzling reaction.

"You're right, Jack. He would know what to do." North nods somberly.

As if the Moon heard them, the moonbeams emitting softly from the huge silver like coin in the sky, glows brighter. The moonbeams form itself into a single beam, shining straight on the sundial - moondial would be more accurate to call the device - and a device rises out of the ground. Clinking and clanking revebrating loudly, there is finally revealed a cylinder like machine. Sandy smiles fondly at the machine, recalling the memories how Jack was chosen to be the next Guardian.

A humming sound rises from the machine, as the moonlight shines intensely upon it. A hologram projection slowly starts coming into being before the Guardians' eyes. A figure slowly materializes into existence.

"I-is the Moon choosing a new Guardian?" Jack questions the group.

"No, no, he's trying to tell us to find someone." North says in a hushed tone, intently watching the program turning into a solid image.

Finally, the figure is picture perfect - and it reveals the last person the Guardians would expect Manny to suggest.

"Pitch Black. By cripes, has Manny gone batty?!"

"Maybe he has a good explanation…?"

Tooth's fairies chitter and chatter, clearly having an uproar at this news. Baby Tooth in particular sticks her tongue out at the image of Pitch, showing her distaste.

In the midst of the Guardians' shock, Sandy is staring carefully up at the Moon, trying to study the friend he knew so long. _What are you up to?_ Sandy ponders.

The Moon is almost staring back at Sandy, specifically.

Clear as day, words formulate in Sandy's mind, not his own thoughts.

_Go to him._

Those three simple words said and done, they dissipate from Sandy's mind. So faint and quick, anyone would dismiss these foreign words as nothing more than imagination. Yet the Guardians knew better, catching these single words. Jack's eyes are wide, more surprised than the others. That would be expected, since Jack did hear the Moon's words for the first time.

"He…" Jack looks at his partners. "He wants us to visit _Pitch_?"

* * *

**A/N: Welp, time for the madness to begin between these unlikely fools. Reviews are much appreciated!**


	4. Autophobia

**A/N: Oh my god...people are still reading my trash? I mean, story, ahaha. Honestly, I feel proud of my work today, I've improved much from the past. I'm so happy that you have reviewed! (I'll reply to Guest reviews in the end of each chapter)**

**Sydney (Guest) - _Haha, I know, I've abandoned this story for quite awhile, haven't I? Well, my obsession for ROTG has been rekindled, so hopefully I can stay with this story for long! Thanks for reviewing old friend!_**

* * *

**~Chapter 4~**

Amara has grown to live with the monsters hiding her bed. She had to.

They were waiting for her, the very moment she stepped into her first foster home. Recalling the uncomforting shade of blue that served as the house's skins, its window-eye like eyes that stared down at Amara when she stepped out of the car, and the two bare naked trees that stood at either side of the yard that reached into the sky like skeleton hands, Amara knew that it was a monster's house.

At the time, her six year old mind couldn't comprehend the fact that her mother was gone for good, or that the monster house she was supposed to live in was temporary until she had to move into another one. She didn't understand why the men-in-black who drove her to her 'new home' never told her where her mother went.

She didn't know she was destined for a life of never-ending change.

The men in black left her with a simple elderly couple and their many cats that roam around making it a secret cat society. She didn't like the couple. Whispery voices, beady eyes bulging through thick rimmed glasses, wrinkly faces that hide their every expressions, and worse of all, _not Mommy_, Amara wondered where her mother went that was so much more important than her.

That was also the first night where she had to sleep alone, in the creeky and cobwebbed attic, full of shadow monsters clinging to the corners, the antique furnitures, peering into the thinly glass paned windows. The couple ignored Amara's claims of the monsters living in the attic, waving it off as imagination.

So there Amara lay, wide awake in the darkness.

Many things were missing from the room. The comforting orange glow of the smiley jack-o-lantern shaped nightlight, the absence of Amara's stuffed animal army that she and her mother would place around the bed to defend them from the monsters, and most heart-wrenching of all, the lack of her mother's warmth besides Amara in her Spiderman-themed bedsheets.

All Amara had was Lopsy, her stuffed koala bear with fuzzy red fur and an oversized head that always looked lopsided on his body, earning his namesake.

"We're gonna have to wait for mommy, right Lopsy?" Amara whispered, cupping her small hand to his non-existent ear.

Lopsy only stared back with his wide beady black eyes.

And then They came. _He_ came.

All the way across her bed, there is a huge wooden wardrobe, dusty and unused, hoarded by the elderly couple. Unbearingly, the door is ajar, revealing a crack of the neverending darkness. No matter how many times Amara attempted to shut the door, it always bounced back open. All Amara could do was stare the wardrobe down, Lopsy in her tight embrace.

The dreaded golden-orange eyes Amara came to dread so much ever since the dawn of childhood, popped open in the depths of the wardrobe.

_Don't talk. Stay close to Lopsy. _An unsaid childhood code was ingrained into little Amara's head. As long as she could be brave like Mommy taught her, to not be scared of the _Boogeyman_, than he would never hurt her!

Her knees curled close to her chest, and crouching behind Lopsy's oversized head for protection, Amara silently watched a shadowy figure step out of the wardrobe. The shadows casted from the moonlight clung to the figure, as if a cloud was forming around the very stranger himself. Willing herself not to scream because Mommy would have never wanted her to, Amara with heavy breathing, could only watch the Boogeyman wander around her room.

The way he walked was confusing to Amara's eyes. His body twitched and spasmed, moving in odd ways little Amara never witnessed a person moved. His movements were quite sloppy, as he wobbled uneasily through the attic. Particularly, the Boogeyman did everything he could to avoid the moonlight piercing through the single open window. All the while, there was no sign he noticed Amara.

Thinking she was about safe, Amara began to slowly uncurl out of her protective ball.

He turned to her, golden eyes flaring in the darkness.

This time, Amara cried out.

A new color spreaded on the Boogeyman's face - white. She saw his horrible too long teeth, almost looking sharp, yet still somehow retaining human quality. His being moved forward to Amara's direction, until he was _right beside her bed side._

Pounding. Pounding overran Amara's little head, her heart just about to burst. No Mommy present, thin blanket sheets, and shaking racketing through her body, she realized that it suddenly became very, very cold. She ducked behind Lopsy, her only defense left. However, even her beloved furry friend wasn't able to defend her.

Easily, it was plucked out of her weak grasp by the Boogeyman. Carelessly, he threw it to the side. A sob rose out of Amara, one she held back for so long, watching her stuffed animal bounced uselessly on the floor. With all of her might, she wanted to close her eyes, so, so badly, but they only stayed open as they gaped at the towering Boogeyman.

The shrouded darkness masking his face, melts away, revealing a deathly pale face. His sickly golden eyes - reminding Amara something of the color of a rotten colored banana, stared down at her with an unplaced greediness. Greasy black hair is slicked back on his head, glossy and spiky. His lips are bared back still revealing his terrifying smile. Quivering, Amara did not say a single word, she didn't dare to. The Boogeyman leaned down slightly, hands clasped behind his back. The only feature visible were those glowing eyes.

"All alone now, are you?" He grinned, almost teasing.

Amara stayed silent.

"Come now, you know that your mommy dearest is gone."

Amara's eyes snapped to him. Feeling red hot anger surged into her head, and she straightened her back. "N-no," She heard herself argue. "She isn't you big fat liar!"

"Liar, am I?" He chuckled. He shook his head as if he were a know it all, the Boogeyman raised a pale finger. He twirled it around, something forming at the tip of the finger. "She left you. She left you because she doesn't love you anymore. Isn't that sad? Your beloved Mommy no longer loves you."

"Liar!" Amara repeated, clenching the folds of her blanket. "Liar, liar, liar!" A defense mechaniscm to combat against his words, Amara knew that it couldn't be true. But doubt, doubt like a worm eating away at an apple's core, nibbled away inside her. It was a strong, annoying itch, one Amara couldn't reach.

A sneer took up his pale face. Clucking his teeth, Amara saw strange black like sand forming above the Boogeyman's still twirling finger. "Stubborn. Annoying." His palm opened up, revealing a handful of fluid, sleek, and glossy black sand. They looked somewhat pretty, but Amara's child instincts knew they were _vibrating_ with something sinister. "It is way past bedtime for little children like you. How about you go to sleep, little one." His hand lowered to Amara's face.

The sand slithered all over his hand like a snake on the prowl, alive and pulsating.

Amara backed away, a survival instinct honed into her mind that she _had_ to get away.

But she was trapped. The Boogeyman released the sand into Amara's eyes. Coldness sank into eyes, as it wormed its way under her very eyelids. This time, Amara really screamed, and tried desperately to scratch the deadly sand out of her eyes. Shadows only visible at that point, Amara heard the echoing laughter of the monster. The coldness wasted no time digging into Amara's head, a cold and unrelenting grasp. The cold forced Amara to feel sleepiness.

The monster hushed Amara of her terrified screaming, his bony hands ran through her hair. "Shhh, go to sleep." He sang softly, however it was laced with cruel enjoyment, nothing close to the comforting words of her Mommy's. "Sweet dreams, little one. Oh! _**But there won't be anymore**_…." Five, ten, fifteen, a high number that six year old Amara couldn't even count up to at the time, spoke all at once from the monster.

In unison, the many voices from the monster all laughed at once, as Amara faded away into dreams of darkness.

In present day, eleven year old Amara wonders at this point of something like the Boogeyman was ever real.

_There are things worse than the Boogeyman. Things scarier than some creeper hiding in your closets._ Amara tells herself, sitting wide awake in bed. Unconsciously, she grabs her ever loyal Lopsy that stayed by her side for all of these years. Patches of his fur were missing, and the stuffed animal was worn from years of love and hugging. No matter how ugly Lopsy looks at this point, Amara never considered the thought to throw him away.

Hugging Lopsy close to her chest, she ignores the fact that if this were true, then why was there still some underlying dread when it came to sleeping? A deep, untouchable pain of hunger roils around inside her stomach, from lack of eating. Wincing, Amara turns to her right side.

Although sleepiness tugs at her eyes, Amara fights to stay awake.

Sleeping meant never waking up for her. Sleeping meant being put into a fancy box and being buried in the ground. Sleeping meant God taking you away when you least expected it.

Her eyes trail over to the single digital clock sitting in the pitifully bare desk from the right rise of her bed. Its glowing green digits shows the time near midnight. For a few minutes, Amara engages in the mindless activity of fooling around with her loose tooth in the back of her mouth. It's been there for weeks, a painful presence. But telling her parents about the tooth equals going to the dentist. _And they're going to tell me to give it to the Tooth Fairy or something. Stupid. _

Once the activity of wobbling her aching tooth became too unbearable, she props herself up, taking out out a magazine from _Best Buy_. She didn't need to rely on some stupid made up Santa Claus to bring her any gifts - her parents are there to give her the presents. Scouring through various pages filled with the cameras of Amara's dreams, sleep is more protesting.

Slapping her cheeks, Amara shakes her head violently. She absolutely can't sleep!

_I don't want to end up like May...she went to sleep. _

A foreign burning sensation flares up behind Amara's eyes, something annoying yet hurting at the same time. Rubbing her eyes, Amara stares out of the window. She wonders. What did 'dying' feel like? Wincing from the memory of the disastrous dinner she had with her parents, Amara felt the subject was forbidden by the grown-ups. May went to sleep, and that was that. _But did she feel pain? Why did she have to go to sleep? Is it because of the Sandman?_

A gnarled place growing in Amara's heart clenches, recalling yet another magical figure.

_Not real. Not real at all. _

The calling of sleep that is an essential need calls out to Amara, as her head nods up. She now knows what it felt to be Lopsy - an extremely heavy head that keeps on rolling to the side. _I wanna watch TV. _Encouraged by this new mission, Amara throws the covers off her legs. Her feet landing on the cool wooden floor, Amara creeps outside the hallway, as quietly as possible.

A childish fear still tugging at her heart from the fear of darkness awaiting her in the hallways, to Amara's secret relief and surprise, she sees the familiar lights of the dining hall shining from the staircase leading downstairs. Voices - voices of her parents - are heard in spouts of shouts and trying-to-be-quiet whispers.

Glad that she didn't need to bear through the night alone, Amara walks to the staircase, full of eager. However, as she got closer, Amara hears its-and-bits of pieces of her parents' conversation from below the dining hall.

"...what is the matter with you…"

"Isa...don't think...can't handle this anymore!"

More inaudible or undescrible murmurs being exchanged. From the tone of her parents' voices, it sound anything but the two of them having a midnight snack. Longing pangs in Amara's heart. If May and Amara happened to ever wake up in the middle of the night as well as their parents, all of them would go to the living room in their New York apartment, heating up their father's homemade caramel popcorn, and watching re-runs of the family's favorite show, _Full House._ Gripping the railing, Amara stays quiet, listening as hard as she can.

"I'm taking this just as hard as you, Al! Why can't you be strong!"

"I can't, I just…with Amara not eating or sleeping properly for weeks ever since...and then we're struggling with the move enough already...this is too much. I can't handle this. I didn't _ask_ for this."

"You didn't _ask_ for this? How more selfish can you sound? I didn't ask for one of my daughters to die! I didn't ask for my other daughter to be living in an unstable household! I didn't ask to quit my job just so that we can run away from our home! Yes Al, yes, of course _you_ didn't ask for any of this you self centered - !"

Amara leans her head in, cocking it. Her mom said an extremely unfamiliar word she couldn't form in her mind. It sounded like a curse word her mother always warned her and May to never, ever say to other people.

"I…"

A pause full of heavy breathing.

"...I think we need a break."

"A break?! You mean you want to leave us, is that it?!"

"A separation…"

"How dare you! How could you leave us like…!"

Hearing enough, Amara, trying to control the shaking of her body, walks to her room. Closing the door behind her, Amara crawls into her bed, burying her face into Lopsy's soft belly. Separation? What did her father meant? The word repeats in her mind, until she finally has a grasp of its grown-up meaning. _Divorce._ Back in New York, in her school, Amara recalls one of her friends. Benny Blue, always needed to be addressed by full name, had his parents _separated._

"I think my mom and dad don't like each other anymore," Benny Blue announced unceremoniously to Amara and May, who were all eating at their local Ben N' Jerry's.

"That's silly. Moms and Dads always love each other." May said, a frown puckered on her freckly face. Amara found herself immediately agreeing with May, more concerned slurping her Rocky Road flavored ice cream out of the bottom of her waffle cone.

Benny Blue shook his head slowly, and stared off deeply into his vanilla ice-cream. At that point, it was nothing but cold and murky soup. Weird enough for Benny Blue, he had not eaten a bite of his ice cream at all. "I-I think," Benny Blue said, looking up to both sisters. "They're getting 'separated.'"

"Who's separating them?"

"Dunno. I think they want to get away from each other. They don't love each other anymore."

"Then you're only going to have one Mommy or Daddy? That's lame."

"..."

The rest of their ice cream meal, Benny Blue never brought up his parents again. A month later, Benny Blue unexpectedly and without announcement, transferred out of the school and out of New York City. At that time, Amara thought he ran away to the circus like he always boasted, and was extremely cross at this prospect. However, their parents patiently explained to the girls why he really went away.

"His parents didn't love each other anymore" explained their mother. "So Benny Blue's parents '_divorced.'_ Which means that the parents separated. Which means only one of them can take care of Benny Blue according to the police men. Understand?"

Rolling over to her side, Amara hugs onto Lopsy harder. "Divorce," She whispers, finally pronouncing the weird sounding word right. _Mom and Dad...don't love each other anymore?_ Amara holds her breath when she thinks of this. It's impossible. Not after the incident where her mother jumped into a lake to save her drowning father and ruin her prom dress in the process. Not after her father spun his bicycle around, going against a tide of racers when he was about to win just so he could be present for the birth of May. Not after her father stranded himself in the deserts of New Mexico for three days just so her mother could fit into the bus and make it back to New York.

Could it be…?

Her mind recalls her name being mentioned in her parents' heated arguement. Heart sinking, Amara clutches either sides of her arms. Could it be her parents are fighting because of her? Is it her fault? Is all of this her fault?

Denial. _Wow, you're so stupid Amara. Of course it's not your fault. _The more Amara denies, the more she finds herself believing this possibility.

Maybe...maybe she's just a bad kid. A bad kid that her parents no longer loved anymore.

_Vrroom!_ Jumping out of her thoughts, Amara sneaks a peek out of the window. To her sinking horror, she sees her father just ducking into the minivan. With another whirr of the car engines, he drives off into the frosted, nearly empty roads. _He...he really is separating from Mom, isn't he?_ "It's my fault." Amara tells Lopsy. His head rolls to the left side, as if he were nodding away in agreement.

Something wet almost escapes out of Amara's eyes - but she easily blinks it away.

Maybe there's one way to fix this.

But…

Can she? Can she really do it?

Amara considers the possibility for another minute. Then she nods, heading to one of her unopened packaged boxes.

She should run away.

* * *

Jack disheartedly kicks some snow over. Digging is staff into the ground, he breathes out, a definite wisp of frosty air escaping him. He glances around the familiar settings of Burgress. His lake. His home. His everything. A full moon is peeking from behind the smoky clouds, moonlight dancing and bouncing off of the many grand icicles Jack decorated the great and thick oak and hemlock trees. They look almost of diamonds, glittering silently in the moonlight.

A soft dusting of snow covers the forest, looking like sugar dust. Easy to be blown away and melted, but beautiful nevertheless. His familiar, comforting lake is glossed over with a thick coating of ice - Jack always made sure to _keep it thick._ Always. He grins proudly at the many dents and figure-8's carved into the surface of the frozen lake. People are finally warming up to the idea of skating in the lake of Burgress, seeing it oddly thick for some reason.

Once taking his fill of admiring his old home, Jack turns back to the other Guardians, who are surrounding the lair to Pitch. A homemade sign is dug besides the hole, thankfully, by a considerate adult reading, _Danger! Very deep hole! Certain danger!_ Yellow almost glowing caution tape covers the perimeter, marking authority over the seemingly bottomless pit, unluckily touched by the children of Burgress who are wise enough to not mess with certain danger.

"No offense Manny," Bunny says, glaring at the full moon. "But you're chockers full of the Groundhog's waste."

"Bunnymund!" Tooth scolds him in an ushered tone.

"Man in Moon always have good reason, no?" North says, yet his sentence sounds more of an expecting question, directed at the other Guardians. Jack only shrugs at North in answer, uneasily looking past the caution tape that only presents the muddy darkness. He shudders from the memories forever burned into his mind, when he so recklessly and stupidly jumped into the hole, that only lead to a path of misery and dread.

Baby Tooth, who is hovering besides Tooth's shoulders, zooms over to Jack. With big, dewey, baby like violet eyes, she coos, calling out softly to Jack for reassurance. Finally tearing his gaze away from the hole, he manages to smile at Baby Tooth. Extending his thumb, the small hummingbird like creature flutters on top of his finger, resting on it. "Don't worry," He whispers. "I'll be okay."

Nodding slowly, Baby Tooth chirps, glad to see the pearly whites of Jack's smile, even if it didn't look so sincere. Giving a quick peck on top of his nose, Baby Tooth zooms straight back to Tooth's side. Jack laughs softly at the gesture, feeling a bit invigorated. However, his mind could only run through the many possibilities of what awaits from the lair…

During the quiet debate among the Guardians, Jack notices Sandy staring - no something much more intense than that, into the entrance leading to Pitch's lair. Ever since all of them arrived at the site, Sandy isn't as talkative as he usually is. The whole entire time, he either glanced between the Moon, or the hole leading to neverending pitch black - wakka, wakka, unintended pun! - darkness.

Just when Jack was about to ask Sandy his problem, unexpectedly and wholly out of character - without saying a word, the Guardian of Dreams leapt into the hole.

"W-what!" Is all Jack could say in a moment of dumbfold.

"I just don't get why we can't deal with the Nightmares while we're still at it - aw, crikey, Sandy?!" Bunny notices their fellow friend's unexpected action, breaking off from his heated rant that he was giving to Tooth and North. "We didn't even decide if we'll go into the lair like a bunch of bloody blueys!"

"Why would Sanderson do such thing?" North says, a puzzled look etched into his bushy eyebrows.

"Nevermind that - Sandy's diving into certain danger all along, and we need to be there to fight off whatever's waiting down there for us as soon as we can!" Without any warning, Tooth jumps into the lair as well.

"Buckley's chance that Pitch is willin' to sit down with us and talk about how to defeat his Nightmares! This could be a bloody trap that we're walking right into!"

"What choice do we have? We must trust the Moon!" North points to the sky. He jumps into the engulfing darkness as well, leaving Bunny and Jack.

Bunny shakes his head, paw on forehead. "Aw, crikey. Either this will lead to something stupid that could hurt us or something real jacked up." Vibrant green eyes meeting Jack's, Bunny shakes his head seeing the decision made by the Guardians already. "See ya on the other side mate." And jumps into the hole.

Standing on his tip toes, Jack peers into the darkness. A pit feeling of dread tugs at Jack - but what's the fun in being the last one joining the fight?

"Well! Gerominoooo!" Jack yells, taking a leap of chance into the hole.

The full Moon above glows brightly in the night skies than ever, no longer hiding behind the clouds.

* * *

After hearing the signal of her mother doing her nightly check on Amara and the soft click of her bedroom door, Amara knew it was time to go. Grabbing a duffel bag packed full with essentials, the girl slips into her Day-Glo Green sneakers, slipping into a jacket and putting on a pair of red mittens. Zipping up her jacket that is now a size too big on her skinny shoulders, Amara creeps into the hallway. _Money...I'm gonna need money…_

Tiptoeing downstairs, a re-enactment of James Bond from his series of films, _Mission Impossible _theme music orchestrates in Amara's head. Seeing the familiar blue purse of her mother's sitting carelessly on top of a box in the dining hall, Amara slowly unzips the bag. Each time, she furtively glances over her shoulder, an unconscious fear of seeing her mother standing there, catching her in the act.

The binds of her parents' teachings _not to steal_ almost had Amara backed out - but the sight of finally seeing a wallet full of cash eased her guilty ridden mind. Taking out about three twenty dollar bills, Amara stuffs it into her pocket. Just as she is about to close the bag, she sees something familiar.

A picture of a smiling May and Amara in a small golden framed picture.

The most recent one at that, with both sisters sitting on the supposed "Santa Clause's" lap.

A scowl forms on Amara's face, resentment strong in her heart at seeing how stupidly happy she was when she _believed._ The resentment vanishes, when Amara sees the sight of her sister's smiling face once again. Although she looks paler, skinnier, and less healthier than usual in the picture, adorn by clad bandages from the treatment of the hospital, it was still the closest May looked to what Amara remembered her when she didn't went to sleep. _You're already taking money. Don't take that._ Amara barely hears the voice of reason, as she reaches for the small picture frame, and tucks it away neatly in her top right pocket.

Quickly rummaging through the cupboards, Amara half heartedly stocked up on food - though she knows she's never in the mood to eat lately - and manages to stuff everything in the remaining cramped room of her backpack and duffel bag. Before running into the night of the door, Amara knew she had to abide by the rules when 'running away' of writing a note to her parents.

Grabbing a sharpie and notepad, Amara scribbles this:

_Mom, Dad,_

_Gotta run away. Sorry I caused you problems. I don't want you to separate. Don't bother to find me, cuz I will either join a circus or went on the lam. Or lamb? Is that how you spell it? Okay, well, bye, love you._

_Amara_

Carefully placing it on the table where her parents can see it, Amara backs out of the door, with her bulky baggage. Taking one last of her home, she escapes into the night.

* * *

**A/N: And thus, the madness starts spinning into play. This chapter is OC-centric than the others - unlike the last version of 'Agoraphobia' I wanted to give more depth for Amara and her motivations to run away, as well as her grief dealing with the loss of her sister. I probably won't be able to update on next chapter till next Saturday. I'm procrastinating on summer homework as it is, and I need to prepare on my move to boarding school. Hope I did well - stay tune for the next chapter!**


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